A house is made with walls and beams; a home is built with love and dreams.
Strength enough to build a home, Time enough to hold a child, Love enough to break a heart
You can keep your willpower, Frog. I am going home to bake a cake.
Home is where you will always have a place, where you will always feel loved, and you will never be alone.
The greatest work we will ever do will be within the walls of our home.
I'm going to go home. Everything is going to be normal again. Boring again. Wonderful again.
Reading dreams. That's what started her walking down the road. Every day she'd walk a little further: a mile, and come home. Two miles, and come home. One day she just kept on.
Here had lived someone else who knew that the only thing waiting at home was a sense of loneliness. Sometimes it is comforting. Most often, it isn't.
Please let him come, and give me the resilience & guts to make him respect me, be interested, and not to throw myself at him with loudness or hysterical yelling; calmly, gently, easy baby easy. He is probably strutting the backs among crocuses now with seven Scandinavian mistresses. And I sit, spiderlike, waiting, here, home; Penelope weaving webs of Webster, turning spindles of Tourneur. Oh, he is here; my black marauder; oh hungry hungry. I am so hungry for a big smashing creative burgeoning burdened love: I am here; I wait; and he plays on the banks of the river Cam like a casual faun.
At CBS, I’m in your house. I’m mindful of that. When I do standup, you’re in my home and I can say what I want to.
A story about family, first loves, second chances, and the moments in life that leads you back home
I think of the security of cages. How violence, cruelty, oppression, become a kind of home, a familiar pattern, a cage, in which we know how to operate and define ourselves.
The world is a globe — the farther you sail, the closer to home you are.
He is happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds peace in his home.
Cherish the people who make up your home, and you'll notice the hearth fires burn brighter than ever before.
Claudia knew that she could never pull off the old-fashioned kind of running away. That is, running away in the heat of anger with a knapsack on her pack. She didn't like discomfort; even picnics were untidy and inconvenient: all those insects and the sun melting the icing on the cupcakes. Therefore, she decided that her leaving home would not be just running from somewhere but would be running to somewhere.
We shape our dwellings, and afterwards our dwellings shape us.
Where we love is home - home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.
The power of finding beauty in the humblest things makes home happy and life lovely.
There are two ways of getting home; and one of them is to stay there.
There is no place more delightful than home.
Love begins by taking care of the closest ones - the ones at home.
The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.
There is nothing more important than a good, safe, secure home.
Love begins at home, and it is not how much we do, but how much love we put in the action that we do.
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